Seeing Is Believing
by CycloneT
Summary: Monica makes a startling discovery about John. If you're expecting substance, click elsewhere. [DoggettReyes]
1. Default Chapter

Title: Seeing Is Believing  
Author: Cyclone  
Rating: G-PG-higher - depends which way your (dirty) little mind works. )  
Category: Doggett/Reyes  
Disclaimer: Do you really not know who owns 'em by now? K – to summarise – John belongs to Monica, and she belongs to CC & Co.  
Summary: Monicasees something that she shouldn't have.  
Notes: Rewritten, because the first version was a bit on the crap side. 'Tis much better now. And longer, too. Hence the breaking up of the story and multiple chapters.  
Enjoy.

XxX

Friday  
Sunshine Motel, CA  
3:39PM

XxX

"John!" Monica gasped in surprise. "Ohmygod!"

In hindsight, she really should have knocked. Or she should have just gone straight to her own room and packed, or checked them out, or called out from behind the door, or - something.

John's eyes flew open and immediately wished that the ground would open up and swallow him.  
"Wha? Monica! Aw, shit!"

She shouldn't have stared. She knew that. It was incredibly rude, not to mention extremely uncomfortable. But for all her embarrassment, she couldn't seem to look away. "Sorry – I, ah – didn't know –"

"It's not what it looks like," he said quickly.

"It's not . . . I'm not judging you."

"Really, let me explain."

"You don't have to," she almost stammered. "Really. No need. I'll just leave."

"Wait! Look, this is in no way indicative of . . ."

She had to get out. She was staring again – _still_ – and staring was bad. "I really shouldn't be here."

"Will you just hang on a minute?"

Oh no. No freakin' way was she hanging on for another minute. She was _out_ of there. "I should have knocked," she mumbled, mostly to herself, but loud enough to be heard.

John had regained a bit of composure, and moved slightly to unkink the cramp in his neck. "Yeah, you should have, but that's beside the point."

_Ohgod, he moved. Don't look, don't look, don't look._ "I didn't think you would be here. How could I have known?"

"By knocking?" he suggested.

"Yeah. Absolutely." He was right. She really, really should have knocked. She'd never enter another room again without knocking. Ever. She took a step back and bumped into the wall, her apology sounding lame even to her own ears. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"You didn't – I mean . . . if I could just show you. . ."

Ohcrap. He wanted to show her? Really not a good idea. "There's no need."

"No need? You can't really think this is me?"

She hadn't been trained to answer questions like that at the academy. Why the hell hadn't she been trained to answer questions like that at the academy? Because if she had, she would have been able to come up with a way better answer than, "Um . . ." and her face might not be flaming as much as it undoubtedly was.

And she wouldn't have been staring. Again. Or was that still?

"See something you like? Just wait until – "

"No! I mean . . ." Shit. He'd caught her. And the bastard even had the gall to _grin_ at her. Why hadn't she knocked? And where did her voice go? "I'm . . . I'm really uncomfortable being here . . . like this."

"You're uncomfortable?" He couldn't move lest he embarrass himself any more than he already had, and _she_ was uncomfortable? "Look, if you just let me prove that this is an anomaly -"

He wanted to prove something to her? What could he possibly have to prove? And how would he do it? "How? I mean, no!" No, no, no. She didn't need proof. "I told you, there's no need."

"If you're gonna look at me like that for the rest of our lives, I think that there is."

God. Why the hell couldn't her eyes stay . . . up? "It really doesn't matter," she said, and almost believed that he bought it.

Until he reached out and touched her. "Yeah," he said quietly and firmly. "It does."

There was nothing else to say to that. Nothing else to do but get the hell out of there and forget she'd ever seen . . . what she'd seen. "Look, if you say that's not you, then I believe you."

She didn't believe him. Who did she think she was kidding? "No you don't. It's written all over your face. Besides, there's scientific proof that when -"

She had to leave. She had to get out of that room, _right now._ If she didn't . . . If she didn't then she'd end up demanding his proof and that would be a very bad thing. Besides, it was none of her business what he decided to do behind closed doors. "Sure I do. And I'm . . . I'm gonna leave now."

"Monica. Gimme one minute to . . . just gimme a minute, will ya?"

But she'd already closed the door behind her, leaving him mortified, aggravated and alone.

TBC...

Ugh, not sure how this will turn out. The format is appearing all screwy and I've tried to fix it, but I think I'll just have to cross my fingers and hope for the best.


	2. Chapter 2

So this would be part two.

Monday  
Washington DC  
Basement office 1  
1:47 AM

He was going to be professional if it killed him. But after two days stewing over what had happened in California, he was finding it harder to put into practice than he'd thought. Things would be markedly better if Monica would just _look_ at him. It's not as if she would turn to stone if she made eye contact. "Have you finished with that witness statement?"

"Yeah. Here it is." Monica passed a folder across the desk.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

John had had enough. "Are you gonna spend the whole day looking at your desk, or are you actually gonna meet my eyes at some stage?"

Her head jerked up, still not quite looking at him, then quickly looked back down. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"No? Ever since California – "

"We shouldn't talk about California, John," she interrupted hastily. No, California was bad, what with the looking and staring and the oh-so-high curiosity factor.

"Maybe I want to talk about it."

"It's inappropriate," she said primly, and was surprised at how prudish she actually sounded, considering the route her mind was taking just hearing the word 'California.'

"For who? I'm the one who . . . I mean, it was me that . . . and if I can talk about it, I don't see why you can't."

"Because firstly, it's not the type of thing I should even be aware of, and secondly, I don't feel comfortable discussing it."

"Didn't know you were this squeamish."

"I'm not. Besides, it won't be a problem – not if we forget it ever happened."

"Problem?" His face tightened. She thought he had a problem? It was one thing for him to acknowledge it, but quite another for her to voice it.

Oh crap. She hadn't meant to give herself away. It was just that he wouldn't leave it alone, and she was feeling flustered and uncomfortable, and her mind kept revisiting the scene of the crime. "I didn't mean it like that. I just meant . . . oh brother. See, this is exactly why I don't want to talk about it."

"Monica, it's not a problem."

"Of course not. I just . . . I mean, obviously it's not for you. But for me . . . I just need to put it out of my mind and things can get back to normal."

Great. Not only wouldn't she look at him, but she was patronising him now. "Really, I told you I'd prove it to you, and I meant it."

She wouldn't bite. She wouldn't bite. She wouldn't bite. Well, she actually did want to see what he was talking about, but she wasn't going to travel down that road. Something told her she'd get more than she bargained for if she took him up on _that_ offer. So no, she didn't need to see his proof. Not at all. And if she repeated that to herself often enough, she might actually believe it. "And I told you it wasn't necessary."

"And I told you I thought it was." He would win this argument, he would. If it was the last thing he ever did, he would convince her that what she saw in California was just an aberration.

Monica met his eyes for the first time in two days. "John, it's fine. Let's just forget I ever saw what I saw and move on."

She hadn't turned to stone, but he would have preferred that to the look that was in her eyes right now. "Don't think I can do that."

"Well, you're going to have to. Get used to it."

"So you're sayin' you're never gonna give me the chance to explain?"

Her head dropped and her gaze went back to the desk. "You don't need to explain anything, and I'd really prefer that we just drop the subject."

John pushed himself up from the desk in disgust. Maybe he should just forget about it. If she couldn't even hear him out then she wasn't the woman that he thought she was. "I thought you were better than this," he said, and left the office.


	3. Chapter 3

6:17PM  
John's house 

It was a bad idea. She knew it. Really bad. Probably one of the worst she'd ever had, and she'd probably end up regretting it, but she knocked on the door anyway. He opened the door with a scowl. Not that she could blame him, but it was a little intimidating nonetheless.

"Yeah?"

"So explain already." Not a good start. She sounded defensive already, and she had nothing to be defensive about. She had absolutely no idea what he wanted to explain either, but he seemed to have a bee in his bonnet and if talking through what happened would allow them to move on, then she'd do it. No matter how uncomfortable it made her. But he didn't seem to notice her brusqueness and ushered her through the door and into the lounge room. "Have a seat."

"Thanks."

"Beer?" He was stalling. He knew what he needed to say, but he didn't quite know how to start. Plus she was looking at him like – well, like she had in California, and he was feeling just as ill at ease as he had then.

"Pass."

"Okay. I suppose I should get to it."

"Yeah."

He settled himself down next to her, careful not to invade her space and thought about where to begin. Nope, this wasn't uncomfortable at all. Just two friends chatting on the couch. Yeah, right. "It was a long day, remember?"

"I remember."

"And it was hot."

"It was."

"I knew you were following up a lead, so I thought why not? Just do it. She'll never know."

"Why did you want to keep it from me?" she asked curiously.

"Because it's not the kind of thing I normally do . . . it's not very . . . it's not very manly, is it?"

Monica tried to hide her amusement. She'd never understand the strange codes that some men seemed to live by. "I don't know about that. I don't see why it shouldn't be."

"I'm just not that kind of person," he continued, trying to ignore the faint smile that she wore. "But something about it seemed so . . . alluring at the time."

"Are you telling me you've never . . .?"

"Sure, I've done it before, but not since I was a kid."

"A long time," she mused, and wondered if maybe he wouldn't scowl so much if he indulged more often.

"Yeah. So I figured what the hell. I just did it."

"You liked it."

"Yes, I did okay. I more than liked it."

"Welcome to the club."

"There's a club now?"

She laughed, and it eased the tension that had been growing considerably thicker ever since John had started his story. "Not literally. But I also enjoy doing it."

"You do?" He looked at her with a half smile playing on his lips, and a warmth that began somewhere in the pit of her stomach began spreading throughout her body under his scrutiny. "Yeah, I can see that."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, John."

"No? Try tellin' that to the guys."

"The 'guys'? What guys?"

"Any guys. I wouldn't hear the end of it."

"So you're going to let some 'guys' dictate to you how you live your life? You're going to let them stop you from doing something you enjoy just because they might make fun of you?"

"Somethin' like that," he mumbled.

"I expected more from you, John."

He stopped breathing for a moment before he answered. "Seems like I can't stop disappointin' you."

"You've never disappointed me," she said softly.

"No? What about California – the reason for this whole talk, remember?"

He thought he was a disappointment? Was he kidding? "You didn't disappoint me John. I was just – surprised, that's all. I didn't handle it very well."

"Ah, so that was a look of surprise on your face. And here I was thinking it was abject horror."

"Horror? John, I really don't know what you're talking about. In fact I'm not even sure we're talking about the same thing anymore. Why would I be horrified by what . . . " she swallowed heavily before she could continue. ". . . by what I saw?"

"Because you're a woman and you know that these things matter."

"What things? I don't understand –"

John slapped the side of the couch in frustration. If she would just shut up for five seconds then he could spit it out and then crawl under a rock and hide for a decade or two. If she would just shut up and stop looking at him like he'd grown another head – which, when he came to think of it, was infinitely better than the looks she'd been giving him for the past two days, then he could finish the lame-ass story that he was beginning to think he never should have started in the first place. Yeah, if she didn't talk and didn't look at him then he'd be fine.

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

The final chapter...

XxX

"Look," he breathed. All he had to do was get through the next five minutes and he'd never have to talk about it again. Of course, that wouldn't stop him thinking about it, but at least he could pretend in the sanctuary of his mind that it wasn't as bad as he knew it was. "It was a long day. It was hot. I just did it. And it felt so good that I fell asleep."

Okay, that part at least made sense to her. If she could only grasp whatever else it was that he was skating around the edges of, she knew that she'd understand the whole picture. "You must really have been relaxed," she encouraged gently.

"I was," he affirmed. "Then you walked in and woke me up."

"I'm really sorry about that," she began hastily, only to be cut off when John held up his hand and shook his head.

"It wasn't that bad. I mean, you'd caught me, but I wasn't feeling embarrassed or anythin'. Until I looked down and saw what you were lookin' at."

"I wasn't looking," she denied. She'd glanced – quite innocently, mind you, and then well . . . okay, then she'd looked. Stared. Whatever. Not that she was going to admit to that.

"Was so. Was lookin' pretty hard, too."

"I wasn't!"

"Uh huh. Whatever you say. But that's when I started freakin' out."

"Just because I happened to glance –"

"If we're bein' honest here, Mon, you have to admit that it was more than a glance."

Okay, so he'd noticed her noticing. It wasn't the end of the world. She could probably even manage to talk her way out of it – if he gave her the chance. "Well – it was just _there_. I couldn't help but see it."

"If that's your story, you stick to it. I'm just sayin' that if you had walked in half an hour earlier it would have been a whole other story."

"Why?"

"Because the water was still warm then."

"I don't understand. What are you . . . oooooh!" And then the penny dropped.

"Exactly. You know what happens to a man when he's immersed in cold water, don't you?"

"I'm aware that the cold can affect the size of . . . that is, it can reduce the . . . that things can seem less than they usually . . . yes. I know what happens."

"Now you're gettin' it."

"So that's what you were so eager to explain to me?"

"Yup."

"I don't get it. Why was it so important?"

"Surely that's obvious."

"I guess it's an ego thing, huh?"

"Kinda. But no man wants the woman he's head over heels for to see him exposed like that and find him lacking."

"You think that I found you lacking?" she asked, and then burst into laughter when he nodded. "You are so far off the mark that it isn't even funny," she managed to choke out. "Lacking? John Doggett, if that is your definition of lacking I never want to see your definition of . . . of . . . not lacking," she finished delicately.

"But you . . . you took one look – one very long look, I might add – and bolted. Then you couldn't even meet my eyes for two days."

"Did you ever stop to think that it was because I liked what I saw that I ran? That I knew exactly how inappropriate it was to be staring and imagining . . . well, never mind about that," she blushed as John's eyes narrowed and then lit up with realisation.

"I think we need to work on our communication," he said finally, taking her hand and bringing it over to his lap. "Because if I'd had known then what I did now . . ."

"What?" she pressed when he trailed off.

"Let's just say that we would have been upgrading to a room with a hot tub."

She laughed then, and felt that since the whole mess had been cleared up she could have a little fun with it. "I've been thinking," she began slowly, "that I really should investigate this phenomena more closely."

"Really?" he smiled. "You want to see my proof?"

"I think that I'm going to have to insist on it, yes."

"Okay then," he replied, and she liked the predatory look that entered his eyes as they bore into hers. She liked it very much. "I'm just wondering where we should start," she mused, the words 'head over heels for' spinning around and around in her mind.

He pulled her to her feet and led her upstairs. "We need to recreate the scene, of course."

"Of course," she agreed.

"The wiring isn't really good up here, so we might have to make do with candles," he continued.

She squeezed his hand and played along. "That's quite alright. I'm sure we'll manage."

"Mon?" John stopped when they reached the bathroom. He turned to her with a boyish grin on his face and asked, "How do you feel about bubbles?"

End


End file.
